


The Rawson brothers

by Versolite



Series: A Rawson canvas [3]
Category: Gentleman Jack (TV)
Genre: Backstory, Brotherhood, Brothers, Gen, Sick Character, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:15:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26565679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Versolite/pseuds/Versolite
Summary: "Contrary to popular belief, Christopher Rawson was not stupid. And contrary to popular belief, Christopher knew just about how much impact his actions could have on other people. The fact that he didn't care most of the time didn't make him apathetic.But he had to admit that it was hard to actually feel compassion.This inability had a source. A person who had not left his side for years. A person who made him feel, as they grew up, envy, jealousy, fury, guilt, anguish and finally, disdain.That person was Jeremiah Rawson. "
Relationships: Christopher Rawson (1777-1849) & Jeremiah Rawson (1787-1839)
Series: A Rawson canvas [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1931890
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Les frères Rawson](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26565082) by [Versolite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Versolite/pseuds/Versolite). 



Contrary to popular belief, Christopher Rawson was not stupid.

He was neither a redoubtable bull foaming with rage and blindly crushing his enemies under his hooves, nor a pathetic vindictive drunken man picking a fight with anyone crossing his path. On his bad days, he looked like such descriptions; but on his good days, which his fellow lawyers witnessed way more, he was essentially sly, confident and intelligent. Qualities far more formidable than his impulsiveness, but which were forgotten in favour of his most striking flaw: his frightening temperament.

And contrary to popular belief, Christopher knew just about how much impact his actions could have on other people. The fact that he didn't care most of the time didn't make him apathetic. After all, he had to take other people's emotions into account (often with annoyance), for they were a key factor in business. But he had to admit that it was hard to actually feel compassion.

This inability had a source. A person who had not left his side for years. A person who made him feel, as they grew up, envy, jealousy, fury, guilt, anguish and finally, disdain.

That person was Jeremiah Rawson.

From a very young age, his younger brother had had serious health problems. A relatively poor physical condition often left him weak and sick, and made him the biggest worry of their parents. The eldest had vague memories of long waking nights, of the youngster's pallor at breakfast. What had he not tried as a teenager to cheer this poor boy up? Going outside together, imagining stories for him, doing magic tricks and playing endless games. He made sacrifices too... He received some hits he didn’t deserve, he set food aside so he could make sure his brother ate enough. Jeremiah was spoiled, nurtured and protected; and somewhere deep in his young heart, Christopher had the selfish hope that it would all end up rotting his character. That there would be some kind of backlash in his attitude that would make his parents want to ignore him a little and give Christopher, the neglected one, some attention. Even at the age of fifteen, a young boy still needed a little affection, didn't he?

But there wasn't any of that. Jeremiah remained kind and gentle, discreet and silent. Christopher had convinced himself with rage that the disease had turned him soft in the head. Some days he conceived impatience about it, and some other days he felt twice as much tenderness for his youngest brother. In the end, the result was bitterly simple: both of them had suffered, the younger one from their parent's overprotection, the older one from their indifference. Ten years later, Jeremiah was terrified to take a step off the maternal and paternal's law, and ten years later, Christopher was phlegmatically ignoring that said law. Neither of them was to blame for such an outcome, with such an upbringing.

But they were both to blame for still not having been able to progress beyond that point, twenty years later.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, the translation might be a little awkward since I'm French and not fully bilingual, but I hope you'll like it :') thanks for the kudos btw!

Christopher closes the door of the bedroom behind the doctor.

He hurries down the stairs and whistles nervously as he grabs his top hat from the coat rack next to the front door. His dog doesn't react, and the black night and stormy grey sky he can see through the louver makes him frown. Of course. His thoughts come back in order at this view and he simply stays here, awkwardly standing in the entrance. Now what? He promised his brother that he would take mother's orders... well, he is not a man of promises, but he doesn’t feel like simply brushing it off and call it a day, this time. There was a certain solemnity in the commitment he took, and besides, he did it more for himself than for Jeremiah. The favour seemed simpler to him when he wasn’t aware of the day's progress. When his only priority was to comfort his brother's tears.

He pensively rolls his hat over the knuckles of his fingers. His hands are nervous. He could use a little whiskey. A drink would help him get through the end of the day and forget about the memories flowing back to him. He tries to erase the idea and waves to one of the servants, whom he sees in a nearby room:

“Olga, I want you to bring me a bowl of sunflower seeds to my office.

-Of course, sir.” Her old face lights up “Oh, sir, could I ask you...?

\- What?

\- How is Mr. Jeremiah?”

He grits his teeth.

“Janine will take the doctor home and we'll know then. For now, focus on what I asked you to do.

His hardened expression usually would be enough to make any bold person apologize, but not this one. She even is impertinent enough to come up to him and put a hand on his arm as a sign of sympathy: “I'm sure that everything will go well.

\- No need to tell me, I know it," he replies coldly, brutally stepping away from her grip. “Will you stop chatting, all of you?! I’m going to my office. Tell the maids I don't want to be disturbed.”

He turns away and walks up the stairs. He feels like he has made no progress since he came back home, and it’s starting to make him mad. He can't even do what he'd like to. Being stuck at this point isn't good for his mood.

_How is Mr. Jeremiah?_

Of course... It’s him they care about. Would it occur to anyone to ask Christopher how _he_ is, for a change? How was _his_ day, how did _he_ manage without his brother? Oh sure, they ask because Jeremiah is sick, and only for that, but it doesn’t infuriate Christopher less. Jesus... Nothing has changed. No matter what happens, everyone will only have eyes for his brother, always and everywhere, whatever Christopher does and tries. Whatever Christopher makes him do, too...   
He must confess the mine thingy – the coal theft – was certainly exaggerated. He didn't think Jeremiah would be so easily fooled by this dirty trick, nor that his karma would fly back to him so violently.

Oh, they could as well pay the price Anne Lister asks. Make it double, even. They don't really lack the money for this kind of deal. But letting his brother give in again, for a business Christopher put him into by already making him give in... well, let's just say this is the kind of irony the elder doesn’t like at all. The cycle will never end if they accept the deal, and they won't indefinitely have the money to compensate for Jeremiah's conciliatory nature. Christopher is certain he helps him by forcing him a little in the wrong direction. The sooner Jeremiah will find some character, the better.

This is the reason why he is concerned. Jeremiah’s anger yesterday was highly out of character, and his patience much finer in proportion to the charge he had against Christopher. Perhaps he had grown tired of the pettiness rather than the act? Perhaps he was truly exhausted, and took the first reason he found to get carried away? Maybe the elder should not have pushed the wickedness any further, maybe it lasted too long, even for his younger brother? But, really, compared to what Christopher is used to, Jeremiah has been unfair. Yes, he got sick, and yes, it was probably his fault, but however… However…

However, nothing. His brother got angry, slept all day, went over to the Lister's and collapsed in tears in his arms. And even though he knows that he has something to do with it, Christopher doesn't feel guilty. Angry, certainly – that things aren't going his way and that he didn't realize right away Jeremiah was in an unusual state – and also something he can’t quite recognize, some kind of vague grief. But not guilty. From a young age, he was plagued by all forms of guilt, so well that he forgot how to distinguish when he should feel culpability.

All he knows for sure is that he wants to make up for it. He wants to avoid the embarrassment and bad consequences, so he wants to make sure his brother is okay. He wants to make sure of it personally, just like in the old days. But in the old days, there was complicity and sincere affection between them, and they had nothing to do or to worry about. What's left of that today? All they do now is work, and they work together, the rest has gone up in smoke. Brotherly love as carefreeness.

He's in his office, working on accounts that he won't be able to finish tonight. Olga or another maid probably brought him the sunflower seeds at some point, he didn't pay attention as he was focusing. He ends up putting his hands flat on his desk. The bodies of the shelled seeds lie in the tray; the smell of the cigarette he has lit still awakens his senses. It's probably one o'clock in the morning, a not very decent time to be awake. But to hell with it. He gets up and gets out of his office.

He arrives face to face with Rose, who is covering a yawn. She blushes and apologizes; she explains she was waiting for him in the visiting room next to his office, to give him a note from the doctor. He sends her to bed rebuffing her - why didn't that silly girl knock on his door? and takes a look at the practitioner's vivid handwriting. The resentment he feels fades as he reads the diagnostic. Nervous fatigue, hair loss, a cold... All symptoms that only confirm what he already knew. Christopher is at the root of all Jeremiah’s problems.


	3. Chapter 3

The elder folds the paper with one firm hand and puts the other on the banister to go up the stairs.

He avoids making the slightest noise, but still knocks when he arrives at the door of Jeremiah's room. He was not expecting an answer but receives one anyway. “Come in," says his brother’s raspy voice. He sighs and does so.

The room is plunged into darkness; the beam of the moon faces Christopher, leaving the bed against the night. He can still make out Jeremiah's silhouette; he is sitting upright against the pillows, like he’s been waiting for a visit or, more realistically, like he isn’t able to sleep. Christopher waits until Jeremiah has recognized him before moving towards him. His younger brother still looks exhausted, and his eyes and forehead shine a little too bright – the fever is persistent. He looks less absent-minded than before, however, and Christopher pulls out a chair to sit at his bedside:

“How are you feeling?

\- I'm... I'm still a little tired, to be honest”, Jeremiah mutters, “but I should be okay if I rest enough. The doctor told me I will only be off a few days. What about you?”

His morale takes a hit. Why, of all people, does it always have to be Jeremiah who cares about asking this type of question? Does he genuinely worry or is it a way to compensate for his invasive presence?

Not invasive _. Not invasive, Christopher, try more than that, will you?_

“I'm fine," he replies gruffly. “You should get some sleep. I was just...” He doesn't know how to finish this sentence. Visiting him at this time of day is neither useful nor relevant. “... came to make sure you were okay.

\- …Thank you, Christopher.” Jeremiah looks down. “By the way, I... I apologize for earlier. I shouldn't have... I certainly shouldn't have cried like a child. It was stupid.

\- Don't be ridiculous. It was nothing.

\- I'll try to do the best I can for the work I...

\- Jeremiah, forget about work for a minute. Just take the opportunity, okay?" he replies, annoyed.

Jeremiah distractedly nods, avoiding his stare. Christopher feels the tension he put them into by being so aggressive, and takes a more delicate tone:

“Look, it's...” he’s reluctant, but finally manages to say: “It's me who have to apologize. I neglected your symptoms, and... whatever. Stop saying sorry wrongly. It's worthless.”

The other doesn't seem to know how to take all this information. Christopher sighs, and pulls his chair out. He changes his mind, though, and leans on the backrest, repressing a movement of anger:

“I don't... I don't know how to deal with all this, Jeremiah. I just want you to chill, okay? We will have plenty of time to weigh it all afterwards, but I saw the doctor's note, all this nervous fatigue things. I don't know what's making you anxious, but damn it... No. This has to stop, you understand?

\- This has to stop? It doesn't mean anything, Christopher. You know how long it's been going on. And you didn't exactly help it yesterday," he adds, lowering his eyes. Christopher opens his mouth to answer, but his brother adds just before: “Sometimes I feel like you don’t care about me, you know?”

It creates a chill. Jeremiah doesn't dare looking at him anymore. He simply shrugs his shoulders, as if he's gotten used to the idea. Christopher remains silent for a long time, weighing his words.

“I know, I... Alright, I was wrong somewhere yesterday. I'm sorry," he says, a little more certain this time. “I’m sorry I do that kind of thing. I'll try to be more careful in the future, not to be so... like that. I'm your brother, if you need anything, you can ask me, okay? I'll do my best. I'll make sure that everything is fine, that you don't have anything to worry about while you're in bed. Hell, I'll do your job, it’s not a big deal-

\- You don’t have to…

\- I will if it’s necessary. And first thing in the morning I'll have Mother's order back. I'm not happy to see you like this. So... I'm sorry to have put you there. And don't think that...

\- Christopher?

\- Yes?”

Jeremiah is wringing his hands, but he gathers the strength to look him in the eyes anyway, and asks softly:

\- Could you... could you give me a hug, like you did earlier?

Christopher sighs. He pushes the chair slightly and sits on the edge of the bed to take his brother in his arms. The embrace is less spontaneous than earlier, but the elder brother feels that he also needed it, while he presses his forehead against the shoulder of his younger brother. He remembers how many times he found himself sitting next to Jeremiah when they were kids, with the younger one huddled in the blankets while he read to him. It's so far away

He moves away from him, and as he remembers he used to do, jokingly ruffles Jeremiah’s hair. It takes a laugh out of his brother's face, and a few hairs from his head that the elder sees falling out silently.

“Remember when I used to do that?" Christopher smiles anyway, mockingly.

“I thought you were past that," his brother replies in a falsely scolding tone.

The elder gets up and puts the chair back in its place. They say good night; but before going out, Christopher turns towards him :

“Jeremiah?

\- Yes?”

He smiles thoughtfully as he pulls the handle of the door.

“I do care about you.” he says

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There goes another Rawson bros fic. I love them so much :') If you like it don't hesitate to kudo or review! Have a nice day


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